


Swearing and Caring

by HallowedNight



Series: Newmann One-Shots [6]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Headaches, Hermann is concerned, Humor, M/M, Newt is an idiot, Sickfic, hangovers, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedNight/pseuds/HallowedNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newton left the lab early, and Hermann needs to find out why.</p>
<p>(Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin. Fluffy humor.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swearing and Caring

**Author's Note:**

> Another quick Tumblr request~ c:

Hermann sighed as he gazed absentmindedly at Newton’s closed bedroom door. The man had retreated there earlier in the day, saying he had something work related and extremely important to do, but Hermann knew better. He knew the man wasn’t feeling well.

Sighing lightly, the mathematician approached Newton’s door and knocked quietly before he was really aware of what he was doing. When no one answered, a tiny knot of anxiety dropped into Hermann’s stomach; who knew what the insufferable biologist could have gotten into with no supervision? Hopefully he wasn’t lying in there dead or mutated or anything else horrible.

His shoulders tensing, Hermann pushed the door open and stepped into Newton’s pitch black room. He immediately shouted a curse as something assaulted his face; a closer inspection revealed that it was a pair of boxers that Hermann promptly dropped with a disgusted sound.

“Ugg, close the door, man,” came Newt’s voice from the bed in the corner. The man was lying on his stomach with his head under a pillow, a blanket covering most of his bottom half. Hermann truly hoped the man wasn’t naked and that the underwear that had just touched his face hadn’t come off of _Newt’s body_ _sometime that day_ but he doubted he was that lucky.

“What are you _doing_ , Newton?” Hermann shut the door behind him and began to feel around for a chair in the blackness. Newt groaned.

“Head hurts, stop talking so loudly.”

The mathematician stopped in his chair quest for a moment, regarding the darkness where the man was lying with concern. “Are you having a migraine?” he asked quietly, finally finding a chair that wasn’t covered in clothes or stacks of paper or Lord knows what else.

“Not a migraine,” Newt replied hoarsely. “Just a little headache, you know how it goes…”

“I most certainly do not! If you’re having migraines, you need to consult the medical staff-”

“I have six Ph.D.s, Hermann, I don’t need a doctor to tell me my head slash brain is _fine_ ,” the biologist hissed vehemently into the bed beneath him. “I’m also really hot, though, like-”

Hermann found his face covered in foreign, Newt-smelling fabric for the second time that day as Newton tossed the sheet that had been covering his bottom half off the bed. Ripping the sheet away from his head, Hermann resisted the strong and growing urge to wring the other man’s neck, headache or no.

“You probably have a fever,” Hermann whispered, trying not to sound murderous. Still entirely blind in the windowless room, he pulled himself up from the chair and wandered in the general direction of the bed, wincing silently as his knees struck the frame. “Let me check,” he said, hating his sudden concern for the man.

It took a moment for Hermann to find and remove the pillow from Newton’s face (though ‘remove’ was not quite the right word: ‘rip away while threatening the use of deadly force’ was probably more accurate), after which he placed a long-fingered hand on the biologist’s forehead. Newt was right; he was burning up.

“Well, you definitely have a-” Hermann broke off and pulled away his hand as an alarming moan found its way out of Newt’s mouth. “What the-”

“Your hands feel _so good_ , man.” Newt reached out blindly, grabbing at empty air for a moment before finding Hermann’s arm and returning his hand to his own forehead with a sigh. “You should really wear mittens or something, your hands are freezing. Though I guess that would make you look even more like an old, crotchety-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Hermann warned as he sat on the bed next to Newton and offered the man his other hand. The biologist acquiesced with a hum and squashed Hermann’s hands on either side of his face. Hermann did his best to ignore the sweatiness.

“You’re literally the _best_ , man.”

“I’m aware,” Hermann answered dryly. “Are you going to allow me to get you some medicine?”

“I’ve already taken some. To be entirely honest, I think this is the hangover from Hell,” Newt said, sounding decidedly brighter than he had a few moments previous. Hermann was immediately furious, but not particularly surprised.

“ _I cannot believe you, Newton Geiszler_. We’re supposed to be working on destroying the Breach, and you’re off _getting drunk_ -”

“Nah, man,” Newt said, waving his hand dangerously close to Hermann’s face. “Try absolutely plastered.”

“That’s it, I’m done with you. I’m leaving.”

“Really?”

“No. Shut up and take a nap.”

“I love you, man-”

“I said shut up, Newton.”

“Right.”


End file.
